


Clumsy Night

by Newspaper



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Funny, Gaster - Freeform, Gen, Grillby's, Humor, Kinda, M/M, Other, Protective Grillby, british gaster, could be dadster, depends on what youre into, doctor gaster, grillby - Freeform, i will judge, i wont judge, its funny okay, its still there, just in case, lol, not really but, omggggg so funny, wink - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newspaper/pseuds/Newspaper
Summary: Being a regular at Grillby's bar, the owner wanted to make sure you made it home safe and sound. Calling in a good friend of his, the doctor is tasked to escort you home. However this leads to a rather messy situation...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taorta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taorta/gifts).



> > First of all I apologize.  
> > Secondly, this is kinda old but I forgot to upload it like I usually do with my one shots for friends after giving it to them as a gift...  
> > So here you go...  
> > Gaster x Reader(YOU)  
> >...
> 
> > Imma die now

Life could have been worse, right?

 

But then again it could have also been better, which it wasn’t. So in the end you were in a lose/lose situation that couldn’t exactly be fixed at this moment in time. You weren’t in the mood to even allow the narrator in your head to explain such events that had occurred because… yeah… it was that bad.

You had a pretty shitty evening, not long after having had a pretty shitty day. Things happened that you didn’t exactly want to think too much about or mull over for too long. It was a cliche thing to do after all, have some terrible situation to occur in one’s life and then go through this depressive montage of locking people out and disconnecting oneself from those that they loved. To hide, to curl up in a corner and think about the things that happened over and over on repeat like some broken record; but you definitely weren’t a fan of that type of ‘cliche’. It wasn’t your style. Sure, you wanted to get this sadness over with, but you also didn’t want to think too much about it.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place; wanting to move on as fast as you could but also not being able to push yourself into thinking things through. The easiest thing you could think of that would solve this situation was probably the worst thing to do but… nonetheless, the thing you wanted to do the most.

 

Drinking.

No judgement  _ necessary. _

 

After such a shitty day, you found yourself making your way to your favorite bar. Not only your favorite anyway, it was technically the only bar around for miles. But with the great people and a great bartender,  _ Grillby’s _ was the perfect place to let loose and not worry about anything bothersome for the rest of the evening. You found yourself easily making your way to the bar in order to forget the events that had unfolded because, well, if anyone knew how to help you forget something crappy it was a bottle of booze and the barkeep, Grillby, who owned the place.

You were a regular at Grillby’s, of course. No, you weren’t an alcoholic _ (atleast I didn’t think so),  _ but you stopped by whenever you were in the mood for a drink or something to eat which was… well… everyday, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that you stopped by so often that the moment you opened the door to the bar and stepped inside people knew you by name. Smiles and waves beamed your way, and of course with a few other regulars you recognized you greeted them back with ease. As much as you wanted to keep a warm smile on your face, this time it was different, and everyone could see it clear as day… or night in this case.

You smiled and waved as you made your way inside, but it didn’t last long before it had been replaced with a deep frown and your eyes targeted on your usual seat. The greetings and cheers that were sent to you had all been silenced soon enough, the tension thick enough to cut, and people returning to their own lonesome or group parties of drinking and eating.

 

Because you had a shitty day, that lead to a shitty evening, and now wasn’t the best time to talk to people until you were completely drunk and had forgotten everything that had happened.

Things that you still didn’t want to think about and yet kept running through your sober head.

 

As if on cue, the moment you made your way towards the bar to get access to your usual seat, whoever was sitting there had quickly lifted and moved away to make room for you. It was literally the barstool that had your name on it, thanks to one of your many drunk nights prior to today where you took a butter knife and carved it into the wood. It was one of the nights when Grillby had to cut you from the tap and escort you home as well of course, but still a night where everyone was reminded that you had a special spot that was officially yours. You wanted to make sure people knew it was yours too. Right at the center of the bar, right where Grillby made the drinks. This, to you, was the best seat for the sole purpose of  _ ‘this way I can watch him make the drinks and if I like what he’s making I can ask for the same thing without having to demand his attention like most people would”. _

It wasn’t as loud and boisterous as it often times was at Grillby’s, probably because of the mood you brought inside the bar with you. You took your seat at the bar and immediately leaned against the bartop, heavily, and groaned for the fire-master’s attention; who was at the other end of the bar attending to another customer's needs. A part of you liked to think he spoiled you by giving you so much attention most days you were there, but at the moment you found yourself wondering if he even realized you had arrived. You simply eyed him as he served a customer a plate of fries with a cheeseburger, and as delicious as it smelled… you had no appetite at the moment.

The warmth of his approach perked up your spirits then, only for the flame-monster to walk right passed you to help another customer at the other end.

 

“I have needs too.” You finally raised your voice at him. The customer he was talking to glanced your way, but eventually returned to placing their order to Grillby, who simply memorized the order _ (not like he could casually write it down on paper without it turning to ash) _ before finally and officially making his way to you to prepare the drink request. His hair flickered about and whipped in its usual fiery manner, his glasses barely hanging onto the edge of his nose, and he pulled up bottles and a glass to start mixing the drink before muttering to you “With the mood you brought in, the last thing I want to do is get you drunk.”

 

It’s as if he knew what you were aiming for, what a guy!

 

“You won’t be responsible, I will.  _ Duh. _ ” You muttered, all the while watching his hand movements as he mixed the drink with ease. The master bartender moved with such fluidity you’d expect him to be a water elemental instead, and just as soon as he had started, he finished, and slid the glass down for the customer to catch. When they had caught it, they raised their glass in gratitude before they took a sip and pulled away to rejoin a group at a booth.

“I had a bad day.” You finally said, now he was leaned on the bartop like you, but his facial expression was more stern as he stared. Almost as if he were staring into your soul, judging you, or perhaps just trying to get a story out of you that you really didn’t want to talk about. You left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t bother asking what had happened. You batted your eyelids as innocently as possible, before he rolled his eyes and picked up a glass. With a washcloth, he started to clean it up as he leaned away from you “What’ll it be?”

 

And that’s how you ended up hammered. 

 

You simply told him  _ ‘we’ll see’ _ just to hint at him how you wanted to wait for more people to place orders, and that’s how you ended up hammered. Drinking whatever another person was having, and eventually it lead to you just asking for whatever he recommended.

Being the nice guy that he is, Grillby did his best to make watered down drinks after you reached the tipsy point of your drinking, but after having so many it didn’t change a thing. Soon enough you could barely hold up your face from the counter, and you were literally laying down on it as if it were a pillow. An uncomfortable, hardwood pillow, perhaps made by some Amish fellows.

It was strange how Grillby felt comfortable serving alcohol, but when it came to water he got terribly nervous. But that’s why he kept water bottles in stock, so that for drunk customers like yourselves he provided one on the house  _ (though in the end everything usually went to your tab until your next paycheck) _ so they could sober up a little before being sent walking home… water bottles were easier to handle in his case.

It was no surprise that by the time you were fading back into reality, with your face practically glued to the bartop, you were focusing on the water bottle right in front of your face. You let out a moan of disapproval, but instead all you could barely hear was Grillby’s sudden lecture “You’ve had enough, I’m pretty sure you can’t even stand up without going unconscious for another thirty minutes.”

 

You were out of it for  _ thirty minutes? _

 

_ New record. _

 

The bar had slowly filled up as the night progressed, you didn’t know what time it was exactly, but you knew enough that it was fairly late. If you weren’t so drunk you’d believe it was time for you to go, but like Grillby said, you could barely feel your arms or legs, let alone your face that was pressed on the counter as if ready to phase through it. You grunted in response, your vision slowly relaxing and beginning to focus better as you carefully let your wobbly arm lift just to push the waterbottle out your face.

 

“You should listen to him and drink the water.” A stranger's voice sounded, pretty close to where you were at. 

However in your disoriented state, when your head shot up you looked around and couldn’t pinpoint as to where the voice came from. You grumbled incoherently under your almost watery breath, already preparing to open the bottle on your own, but to no avail. You made a frustrated noise, which was enough for the stranger to suddenly reveal that they had been sitting on the other side of you at the bar. Right next to you, they reached their arm out to take the bottle from your hands with ease, twisting the cap off of it and handing it back carefully “There you are.”

“I appreciate you being here, Doctor.” Grillby bowed his head slightly towards the stranger as you babbled his words as if you were a drunken parrot, though you suspected in your hazy mind he wasn’t much of a stranger to Grillby, and you simply turned yourself all the way around so you could fully face them, while returning to leaning on the bartop and setting the bottle down without as much as a sip.

You didn’t recognize him, but he looked like some sort of rich man. Black suit and white tie, he looked as if he just came from some fancy/formal event. And from what Grillby had said, he was apparently a doctor, and as much as you wanted to scoff him, the stranger once more took your water bottle and lifted it, to force it back in your hands as he demanded once again “You should drink the water, alright?”

_ “You should drink the water, ‘cause I’m a doctor.” _ You mocked his sophisticated demeanor, for a skeletal monster he sure sounded British as hell. You grumbled, but finally did as you were told. Not that your drunken state helped with your movements, you found yourself mostly pouring it over your face before the doctor had reached out to stop you. Having suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you from sliding off the stool, his other hand was used to simply guide the bottle to your lips, allowing you to drink more effectively as you swallowed half of it down. Eventually you coughed as a signal for him to stop, and as soon as he pulled it away, you leaned forward onto him and gave a simple “Thanks doc.”

However he didn’t let go or pull away from you then. He simply set the bottle down on the bartop, his arm still around your waist, and he allowed you to lean on him as he wrapped his other arm around you “No problem.”

 

“Mr. Gaster is going to escort you home.” Grillby finally said it. He was cutting you off and forcing you out.

As if knowing fully well you were preparing to object, Gaster’s grip on you tightened as a means of keeping you from squirming out of his hold and escaping to who knows where. Behind the bar? In your fog-filled mind you knew you needed to stop drinking, especially since suddenly you were feeling rather queasy, but another part of you still remembered the shitty evening and needed to drink more in hopes of forgetting it.

You didn’t say anything, you simply nodded. Gaster loosened his hold then, pulling back slightly but only so he could stand from the barstool he sat on. You remained seated for a moment as he did his best to get you on your feet, all the while you stared at the 3 different Grillby’s as if they had all betrayed you in some way.

 

All three of them shrugged.

 

“This is for the best anyway,” The doctor exclaimed, as if he had caught you eyeing Grillby and mentally tossing daggers at him “I am, like he had said, a doctor. In case anything were to happen to you, I will be able to help. I will take you home, that is all. No harm done.”

“Why are you so  _ fancy _ in a place like  _ this _ anyway?” You finally slurred out your thoughts, even though you thought you were thinking them… but apparently not as he replied “Mr. Grillby called me here, I don’t often hang out in places like these. But he’s an old friend of mine.”

“I’m not old.” Grillby tried to clarify as if he needed to, only being followed by your loud “HA!” as you finally slumped out of the stool and into _Mr. Gaster's_  arms, who easily supported your weight before instructing you to hold onto him the best that you could. 

As much as he wanted to be a helpful doctor, you found yourself fumbling to cling to his clothing, only for him to readjust your grip. In the end the two of you stood there for about five minutes, maneuvering back and forth with your arms as to where he felt it was okay to grab. His tie was out, his shirt was out, his jacket, and especially his pants were out… suddenly you gripped his shoulders and breathed out drunkenly “There!” And he simply agreed with “Fine.” Before, well, practically dragging you out of the bar and towards his car.

There wasn’t much you wanted to say at this point, whether Gaster was a friend or not, you didn’t feel all too chipper that you had to end your evening due to Grillby summoning a doctor. So when Gaster got you into his pretty fancy car and buckled you in, you were silent the entire ride other than doing your best to give him instructions on where to go.

He tried, really hard, to make some sort of small conversation. But you didn’t really accept it so well.

The doctor would ask about what you did for a living, in which you recalled saying  _ “I own a local bar around here, called Grillbae’s.” _

He wanted to know your name and how old you were, in which you responded saying somewhere along the lines of  _ “Johnny Knoxville from MTV’s Jackass and I’m gonna be 98 in October.” _

Eventually he had given up as well, which was good, you were pretty sure if you had tried to talk again you would’ve thrown up all over the inside of his car. You could only imagine how pissed off a fancy doctor could get if the interior of their fancy doctor car got  _ less-than-fancy _ vomit all over it. But in the end he stopped trying just in time to park right in front of your house. Parking it and turning it off, you barely remember how he managed to lead you to the front door.

Even with your clouded and intoxicated mind, you do however remember having finally, and officially, puked all over him. His black suit, black slacks and white tie had all changed to a rather disgusting rainbow array of colors that your brain couldn’t comprehend; it was almost magical--

 

_ But then you woke up. _

 

In the blink of an eye, the morning sun was flashing in your face, and you were groaning from the pounding headache that made your brain throb in agony. The light burned, your head burned, and with your mouth completely dry, you dragged yourself out of bed and to the kitchen to chug through as much water as you possibly could…

 

Before realizing you had thrown up all over a total stranger. Who was, mind you, kind enough to not only drive you home but tried to start up a decent conversation and walk you to the front door. Did he even take you to your bed? Or did he dump you at your doorstep after having done that and you managed to make it yourself?

“Oh god.” You tried not to throw up again. The churning in your belly returned, and it only made you chug a bit more water. A mixture of complete embarrassment and disgust wafted over you. You smelled like vomit, your mouth tasted of it as well, but you were somehow in your pajamas as if you managed, in your drunken stupor, to still use a tiny ounce of class left to remove your soaked clothing before sleep.

Thankfully this meant you didn’t sleep in your own puke, however it made you still somewhat nervous at the thought of last night's events. You didn’t realize you would get this wasted, though thankfully it was the weekend and you didn’t have anything to look forward to.

 

And with that, the doorbell suddenly rang, chiming throughout the home to notify you that apparently you did have something to look forward to.

 

_ Supposedly. _

 

You left whoever it was standing outside, because you definitely needed to at least brush your teeth before answering the door. And once that was done you finally dragged yourself to the front door and opened it lazily. The first thing your eyes looked towards was the ground, the steps that lead up to your home. There were stains on the path that you sure as hell knew who had caused them. You mentally noted that you would probably have to scrub the tile later, as you finally gazed upward to the tall fellow before you.

Almost too quickly their face sent that disgusting reminder of last night. Doctor Gaster stood there, taller than you had remembered him being, but wearing clothing that felt, more darker than the black you recalled he had worn.

 

And, well, he looked  _ somewhat irritated. _

 

“Oh, so you’re awake finally.” He commented. He stood quite straight, in that formal fancy fashion that you started to assume most formal fancy people did, as you hunched before him and leaned on the doorway. His attitude had caused a chain reaction, resulting in your own being somewhat bothered by his appearance. Did he show up for a thank you card? 

Gaster continued, with both his hands having been behind his back, suddenly one revealed itself, the whites of his bone making crinkling noises as they grasped for his smartphone and he looked it over “I had to contact Mr. Grillby to claim your number, I hope you do not mind. But I tried calling you about three times before deciding it was best to simply arrive.”

 

So much for you thinking it were the morning still. It must have been sometime in the early afternoon.

 

“Um,” You tried not to sound as groggy as you were, you could only imagine you looked just as messy as you did yesterday “Is there something you need?” All too eager to back away and slam the door on his face, even though you had to admit he was ALSO more attractive than you recalled him being, you were getting fidgety when he behaved as if he could sense your thought process. Gaster suddenly stepped forward, one foot in the doorway, as if daring you to slam it on his shiny black shoes.

“Yes.” He said simply, suddenly glaring in a very ungentlemanly like manner “You soiled my suit last night and I demand payment.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You groaned in distaste, lifting a hand just to rub over your face in a sign of tiredness. The reminder of it was already making you sick again, only this time thank god you could hold it back. It didn’t take long however to realize what he had meant by repayment, and you quickly glared and shot back “What?!  _ Repay _ you!? It was just some clothes--  _ you can get more-- _ ”

“Tailored by a very famous fashion designer, mind you.” Doctor Gaster squinted his hollow eyes, though within them flicked a magical light that revealed just how irritated he was. However it was too early for you, and you still felt like hell, to give a damn about how threatening he appeared. He continued with his snobbish rich fancy behavior “Those are one of a kind, and if I can’t get you to pay full price for it then you owe me at least two thousand dollars--”

“ _ Fuck _ that!” You stepped back, but your swift motion had caused him to pull himself away from the doorway as well. You growled “Where do you think I’m gonna get two thousand dollars from?! Out my ass?! I didn’t ask you to take me home--”

“Did you truly wish for me to have left you at the bar?” Gaster rolled his eyes to look away from you “It was requested of me to take care of you, a favor for a friend. And instead of any form of gratitude all you did yesterday evening was avoid any forms of small talk and then gave me thanks in vomit.”

“Look, it’s too early for this…” You gripped the door, letting your eyes skim over his rather slim figure. A snobby fancy-suited doctor who had the gall to return to a drunk human’s doorstep just to request them to pay for a fucking suit. It didn’t even matter if he was hot at this point “You may be hot as hell but your attitude sure isn’t matching it!”

 

Gaster didn’t seem to have a response for this, and your only response for what you had just said was in your facial expression; as your cheeks heated up. The realization that those words had slipped out made you completely embarrassed, but you tried your best to play it off as if it were intentional. 

But even when Gaster suddenly mumbled “I  _ beg your pardon? _ ” You couldn’t seem to shut up.

“You heard me!” You stomped your foot “You’re... pretty hot! So what?! And I like what you’re workin’ with!”

_ And you kept going on, why? _

“But it doesn’t give you the right to show up just to demand some payment!” With a huff you backed further into your house, thankful that he was practically petrified and unable to move “Now, Doctor Gaster, remove your fine ass off my front porch!” And with that you quickly slammed the door on his face. Followed by, of course, locking it.

 

And then you proceeded to internally scream at yourself all the while showering, getting dressed, doing laundry, and eating a belated breakfast in front of the TV.

 

The embarrassing thought didn’t fade away until it was hours later in the late afternoon, when the realization hit you that it was rather lonely in the house now. And you had paperwork to file and finish before the end of the weekend. The reality of the situation had came back, the reason you went out to get hammered in the first place. You pondered over getting a pet of some kind before you heard the doorbell ring.

 

And surprise surprise, it was doctor man.

 

“Listen,” Before he could even utter a word of demands, you stopped him in his tracks “I’m sorry about yesterday, okay? And thanks for your help I… actually do appreciate it.” You looked away and around in hopes of avoiding Gaster’s somewhat dumbfounded expression “In any other situation we probably would have banged.”

 

_ Awkward turtle. _

 

“I was dealing with some things, and I’m still dealing with them now.” You finally returned to staring him in the eyes. The same flickering light from earlier shined brightly within his skull, however they weren’t as intense or fierce either. Thankfully. In a sense they felt somewhat relaxed and curious. You continued “The stuff I have to deal with is pretty… pricey. I can’t guarantee paying you everything up front… but if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, like dinner or we could go chill at Grillby’s again or something, then I’ll be on top of that.”

Gaster had literally been standing there the entire time, the same expression of wonder on his face as he watched you, as if not knowing what to say. Which made sense considering it was your attempt at apologizing before the two of you did another “bickering couple on a doorstep” scene like you had done earlier. You weren’t much of a person who cared for formalities and getting fancy with the spices, while he was all about fancy…  _ and spice. _

 

“I did return in an attempt to request another means of repayment…” Gaster finally managed to say, and you let out a soft sigh as if you had been holding in your breath the entire time. You leaned against the doorframe, but then quickly stood back straight “Uh, okay well how about… do you wanna come inside or something? I can make coffee?”

“Coffee?” He questioned you almost immediately “In the afternoon?”

_ As if people don’t drink it in the afternoon. _

“It’s good shit, right?”

It was the first time  _ (that you can remember) _ that you saw this serious well-mannered man suddenly smiling. It was pretty goofy, but contagious as you smiled back. Once Gaster nodded, you stepped to the side and allowed him in, closing the door behind him and making your way to the kitchen as a means of leading him in the right direction. You were all too amused to see him eye you as you put instant-coffee mix into the machine and start it up with some water. He even dared to ask “You do not make it fresh?” And you smugly smiled his way and snickered “This  _ is _ fresh.”

 

_ Talk about two different lifestyles colliding. _

 

And when the mugs were served and you two sat in the living room together, sharing a pretty worn couch mind you, it was back to that awkward silence that you remembered was all-too there during the drunk drive home. The two of you took turns sipping your own cups of joe, looking at nowhere in particular, before you had an undying need to simply turn on the television again to break the silence. Background noise was better than no noise whatsoever, and you could only admit to yourself that you weren’t great at breaking the ice, let alone with people you had already confessed attractions to.

As you set your mug down on the coffee table, and reached for the remote, suddenly Gaster’s hand was on top of yours as if he were thinking the same thing. His boney fingers were surprisingly smooth, and a part of you wanted to instinctively just wrap your fingers around his to hold. But you simply froze yourself as he spoke up finally “Before we discuss matters of repayment, I hope you do not mind me asking…”

 

_ Uh oh. So he wasn’t thinking the same thing, he was simply stopping you. _

 

“What exactly happened that evening that made you want to drink yourself into a stupor?”

 

You turned your head to look at him, and Doctor Gaster was already returning the gaze with ease. His eyes seemed serious and stern, even as you did your best to show your relaxed state. You were sinking into the couch, and you pulled yourself back from the coffee table to show off that you weren’t going to turn the TV on after all. Maybe that’s what he wanted? Simple peace and quiet with you to discuss this crappy event in your life that you were trying to forget?

“I wouldn’t even tell Grillby, and I’ve known him hella longer than you.” You commented simply, smiling and arching a brow as he took a sip of his coffee. You could tell he didn’t like it very much, for a man who didn’t express himself face-wise, he surely did with his eyes. They flickered like candle-light, almost changing color as he took a sip, before he decided to also set it down on the coffee table “I was just curious. You are of course not obligated to tell me anything… I just can’t imagine what was so hard on you for you to have the need to drink it all away…”

You didn’t want to talk about it, you wanted to change the subject to something, anything really… but suddenly you found your eyes wandering towards something totally relatable, something you didn’t intend for Gaster to notice you staring at. But maybe it was too obvious then that you stared at a comforting picture not far from where you sat. He must have followed your gaze towards it, because soon enough he instead asked “Who is she?”

 

And you replied honestly “My mom.”

 

And suddenly you needed a drink.

 

Gaster frowned then, his rather simple and plain demeanor had shifted almost instantly, his eyes lowering downward to his lap. You were pretty sure he connected two and two together, but suddenly you had an undying need to blurt out through your suddenly weakening voice “She died yesterday while I was at work. It was just an accident… a stupid, pretty shitty one.” You held your breath and found yourself lifting your head to face the ceiling, in hopes of keeping the tears locked in place. You were an ugly crier and the last thing you wanted was an attractive doctor to see you crying like a child. Sure, you had every right to… but he didn’t have a right to see you in such a state, and you definitely were trying to avoid this state too. “No offense, but is it okay if we don’t talk about this?”

Gaster replied lowly “Of course… my apologies.”

 

“No need, just… you know… kinda fresh.” You attempted to chuckle at your own joke, but it wasn’t that funny. 

 

You could suddenly feel an arm wrap around your shoulders, and as you finally lowered your head to see what Gaster was doing, your face wound up being pressed into his chest as he gave you, what you would consider, the most awkwardest hug you have ever received in your entire life. Which, as you tried to think back to when he would barely let you hold onto him even after offering to help you out, made a lot of sense. Maybe he wasn’t used to touching people in these types of ways, and maybe you were a special case for the moment.

It was a surprisingly warm hug, for a stuck up doctor, let alone a skeleton who didn’t have much comfort underneath his clothing. And yet you could feel it, and you tried your best not to cry into his chest even if it seemed like he were inviting it. It was hard to think about how your household of two had turned into one overnight, you had a crappy work week… you left work early yesterday to get to the hospital just to find out your mother didn’t make it.

And sometimes… you just wished--

 

_ Suddenly he kissed your forehead.  _

 

You slowly pulled back and looked up at him “Um… s’cuse you?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry--” Gaster stammered, and you took a moment to wipe your eyes as he broke the hold on you. His cheeks were pink, as if actually embarrassed for getting caught showing such affections. It made sense though, you two still didn’t know that much about eachother, other than the experiences from last night. But it showed potential, and signs of interest which you couldn’t help but smirk at. 

He fiddled with his fingers, messing with fixing his clothes as if you had wrinkled them that badly “I figured… you should know that, what you had said earlier… I feel the same towards you.”

 

You blinked slowly in response.

 

He added “As in, I also find you to be attractive. In your own way, of course… I suspect that, well, this is… erm…” Gaster was struggling pretty hard to even figure out the English language at this point, but it was making you smile. He basically knew that you were bothered by what happened yesterday, and tried to change the subject. Which, well, it worked. The doctor cleared his throat “I propose that… instead of some… monthly payment, your previous idea was a good one.”

You puckered your lips thoughtfully, sniffling back any stray tears you had left. “Previous idea?”

“Yes.” He nodded, the skeleton doctor glanced away as he simply lowered his hands to fold in his lap “You suggested going out to dinner. I think that’s… a good idea. I would enjoy that.”

As you looked him over at how tiny he almost seemed, this tall fancy doctor who couldn’t stand having his suit ruined before, suddenly turning into some shy uncomfortable schoolgirl before your very eyes… you wondered where this would lead. And you chuckled “Sure, it’s a date then.” With a small nod, he looked back to you with his genuine goofy grin “Excellent. Then we shall meet later.”

Before he could lift from the couch however, you quickly pulled him back down, leaning against him. He held onto you as if you were preparing to fall off the sofa, even though that wasn’t the case. And right before he could ask, you simply mumbled “Well, we can go out later, right? Let’s sit here n’ cuddle.”

Gaster made a nervous laugh, and you persisted “Cuddle me like one of your French patients.”

 

“I do not cuddle my patients…”

 

“It was a joke--”

 

“Do not joke about my patients.”

 

_ It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. _


End file.
